


Hands-on

by aalisse, Die_Melodie



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aalisse/pseuds/aalisse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Die_Melodie/pseuds/Die_Melodie
Summary: Credence learns through touching. Newt is ready to help him, whatever it takes and wherever it takes them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of an explanation from M.: Alice had this headcanon that Credence is a kinesthetic who learns everything through touch and physical contact, and he touches Newt a lot because that's his way of figuring him out. Initially she was planning to write porn with this premise (ha-ha), but that never worked out. She sent me the first half of it and said I was welcome to try and escalate things, then I completely failed to make it porn either, but we both agreed it was kind of better this way.  
> (Also she insisted on stressing that this scene takes place at least several months into their acquaintance. Just so you know.)

Newt looks at Credence with a mixture of interest and light confusion as the boy touches his hand gently, experimentally. Credence traces the lines on Newt's palm with his fingers, the touch so light it would've tickled if Newt didn't have such calloused skin on his hands. Credence slowly caresses the sensitive skin on the sides of Newt's fingers, obviously trying to memorize the tactile feeling when he does it multiple times, concentration evident in the frown on his face.  
  
Newt doesn't pull away when Credence goes higher and touches his forearm through the layers of his clothes. He explores the way Newt's arm feels, his hands traveling up towards his shoulder. Then he goes back to the opening of Newt's sleeve and carefully slides his palm in between the layers of coat and shirt. Newt feels the boy's cold fingers slide against his forearm once before they're gone. He looks at Credence. The boy looks back, head bowed, like he expects to be scolded. Newt doesn't move a muscle, doesn't show any emotion - mostly because he has no idea what he wants from this situation. He doesn't want to push Credence away, but he also doesn't want to pressure him into anything, in any way. So he stays right where he is. 

Credence makes up his mind - he reaches for Newt's face. Gentle fingers touch his cheeks, barely there, and Newt closes his eyes at the feeling. Credence's touch travels lightly towards his chin, then he traces the line of Newt's nose and the arches of his eyebrows. Gently, he threads his fingers through Newt's hair - and Newt breathes in sharply. He opens his eyes and looks at Credence, the boy frozen in place, waiting for further reaction. Newt doesn't give it.   
Credence looks puzzled for a second, trying to figure out if there's judgment in Newt's expression, and, if not, then what does he want from him? He doesn't get an answer, so he takes a deep breath and continues, looking Newt straight in the eye while his fingers continue sliding through his hair.

 

It feels strange, much too intimate even for the boy who explores everything by touch. Too close, too slow, too quiet – and suddenly Newt finds it very hard to bear. He fights not to move or say something, because he knows this is not for his sake. Credence is doing what he needs to do, and Newt is just there to help him along. 

One hand keeps stroking his hair while the other goes up to touch the bridge of his nose again, then slides down until Credence is touching the very tip with his index finger. It tickles. Newt can't help a small reflexive smile. 

He sees something shift in Credence's expression then. Slowly, very slowly, his fingers drift down to touch the corner of Newt's mouth. 

For a moment, they both seem to freeze. Newt really does start saying, "What are you doing?" then, but catches himself as soon as the first sound escapes his lips. It leaves them half-open, half wrapped around the fingertip. 

Credence blinks, but doesn't remove his hand. His eyes are flicking over Newt's face, lashes fluttering, pupils blown wide and black. His own pupils are probably widening too right now. Newt might not be a very sexual person (somehow he had been under the impression Credence wasn't much of one either), but the position they are in is decidedly sexual, and he feels his pulse speeding up, his breaths starting to come out quicker. He watches as Credence bites his own lip –a habit he can't seem to shake, his lips are bitten bloody most of the time, and most of the time Newt doesn't give it much mind, but –

The other hand, the one that's been still in his hair for too long, starts moving again, pulling him closer. It's just an inch, but for Credence, who only ever seems to touch but never to move things from their assigned places, it's a step that speaks volumes. Newt can't pretend he doesn't understand, much less that he doesn't care. 

He lets himself be drawn in, lets his own hands slide around Credence's waist, up his back, tangle in his hair just as Credence's fingers fall away, replaced at last by his hesitant lips. 

Their noses bump as they kiss, awkwardly like schoolchildren. It's all light touches and dry lips catching against each other, and it's not unpleasant, not at all. Credence's hands fall onto his shoulders and stay there, soft and gentle. After a long, long moment he is the first one to break the kiss and lean his forehead against Newt's. They stay like that, eyes still closed, sharing the same air and (it seems like) the same heartbeat.

"Thank you," Credence says softly.

Newt doesn't need to ask what he means, whether this is helping him feel better or figure himself out or understand others, because it's probably all of these things combined. And Newt is ready to be there for him, whatever it takes and wherever it takes them. So he takes Credence's hand and squeezes it once before saying, "Of course. Now do you want to help me feed the Mooncalves?"

Credence's smile as he weaves their fingers together is a thing of beauty.


End file.
